There's No Comparison
by Warner123
Summary: Modern AU. Freshman year of high school, Jean loses his best friend, Marco, in a tragic car accident. Armin is there to pick up the pieces. Years later, the best friends deal with a bout of sexual tension right after graduation. What happens when they cross boundaries and test uncharted waters? Lemony. Fluffy. Someone help me find the owner of the art so I can credit them!


**Idk why you're here if you're not prepared for boy sex and other mature themes. Since a disclaimer is standard and usually required, though, WATCH OUT.**

 **Shingeki no Kyojin and its characters are owned by Hajime Isayama, not me, in case you were wondering.**

* * *

People say there's never a split moment when your life changes forever—it's all gradual, they say. Not for Jean. He could pretty much pinpoint his change in attitude to Marco's untimely death three years ago. Car crash. He'd been hit from the side of the vehicle, and it ended up crushing the entirety of the right side of his body. The funeral had been several days after, and Jean could still hear his own thoughts screaming inside.

 _Marco…. Without this headstone, I wouldn't be able to tell which bones were yours anymore._

Marco was his only real friend the first portion of high school. The only one who genuinely enjoyed his company, and listened to his tirade of complaints and words of conceit. It was mostly because Marco knew Jean's front was to hide his own fear.

" _Jean, I want you listen to me without getting angry. You're not strong, that's how you know how the weak feel."_

Jean stayed at the side of Marco's grave even as people began to leave, staring at the freshly overturned earth. He stood there, fazed. He was beginning to become completely unaware of his surroundings, thoughts muddled with images of his late best friend. How would he carry on when he had no one to confide in anymore? Jean felt that the only way he'd seemed unapproachable to everyone else was because he could let his softer side out around Marco, enough to continue on with his farce of a personality. Jean clenched his jaw. No, he wouldn't be weak. On Monday, he would return to school, and no one would see how broken he was. He'd be as resilient as ever, and damn them all if they'd think otherwise.

"Jean?"

He turned his head swiftly, his body jerking a bit. His eyes settled on a familiar mop of blonde hair, much lower down than was standard. Armin gazed back at him, clad in a bright colored dress shirt and khaki pants, jacket taken off his body and slung over his arm. In the other hand was a white rose. His face was one of concern. "Are you okay, Jean? Y-your face…"

Jean could feel the wetness on his cheek, and he lifted a hand to touch the trails of tears staining his skin there. With a snarl, he brusquely wiped them away with his shirtsleeve.

"I'm fine. Jesus, stop looking at me like that."

Jean tried to hide his shock upon seeing Armin here, of all places. Jean wasn't exactly the kindest person towards the shorty, and often ridiculed him for things that didn't matter. What bothered Jean more was that he never fought back. The shrimp always took what was dealt to him and gazed back with a pitying stare. Pity, of all things. Once, this look of pity really set him off more than it had before, and he punched Armin square in the jaw, knocking the frail boy to the ground in the process. "Quit looking at me like that, you fucking twerp."

Armin simply took a second to recover, rubbing the spot where he'd been hit and standing back up. He didn't look back at Jean, but nodded and waved in his direction. "Okay. See you later, Jean."

Jean stood there, mouth agape, staring at him as he walked away. Jean continue to gaze in his direction even after he'd walked far from his sight, the crowd moving about him, unfazed by the events that had just passed.

Even now, Armin stood by him, unflinching and unfazed by Jean's rough demeanor.

"You've probably already heard this plenty, but I'm sorry for your loss. Really. I know you and Marco were pretty close. Everyone does."

Jean set his stone face so that Armin's words would have no affect outwardly. Inwardly, he died just a bit more inside.

"You're right. I've heard it plenty." He appraised the boy's apparel, and sneered. "You ever heard that people wear black to funerals?"

Armin nodded. "Yeah. But I'm here to remember his life, not mourn his death. Marco was a decent guy to me. We weren't close, but still, he deserves this." Armin approached a bit closer to place the rose at the foot of the grave. He backed up a bit, stopping at Jean's side. "Wouldn't you think his life was pretty colorful?"

Jean huffed at that and turned from him, looking back at the headstone.

Armin sighed. Jean could feel his gaze on his face. He didn't say anything for a while, but finally…

"Please don't get mad at me for saying this, Jean, but… it's okay you're not a strong person. You don't have to be. It's alright to know what it is to be weak."

Armin's words shook him to his very core. Marco had said similar words to him when he was alive. So similar, in fact, that Armin saying them here, now, quite literally haunted him. Jean didn't have the strength to be angry. His thoughts were overwhelmed with memories of Marco and their years of friendship.

It was to Armin's utter shock when he began to cry. His broad shoulders shook with the sobs that overtook his body. "Fuck," Jean hissed, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes. "Goddammit." Armin didn't quite know what to do with a crying Jean. A deranged, bad-tempered Jean, sure. While Armin had always seen through the ruse he constantly put up, it was different seeing it completely shattered. Now, all that was left was a very vulnerable and very alone boy.

Jean felt a hand at his elbow, a surprisingly strong but comforting grip there. After some hesitation, he let go completely. They stood together, under the cover of thin clouds with rays of sunlight peeking through, waiting for the grief to finally settle.

 _This world is cruel… and also very beautiful._

* * *

School the following Monday went differently than Jean had anticipated. Yes, there were a lot of pitying stares and avoiding of glances, but there were also a lot of people coming up to him to extend their condolences wholeheartedly. Including Jaeger.

"Hey, Jean." He turned to meet gazes with the brunette. Honestly, Jean was too numb to make a sarcastic quip, so he just waited expectantly. Eren brushed a hand through his hair, sighing. "Look, we don't really get along all that well. You and I both know that. You also know that I pretty much think you're a dick 99% of the time…"

"Charming, Jaeger."

"… _Soooo_ , Armin kind of let me know just how much this has been affecting you."

Jean clenched his fist. Damn kid. "Oh?"

"Yeah. So, I think letting go of our differences, at least for the time being, is probably best. So, I'm sorry. Really."

It took a moment for Jean to respond. It was true that he and Eren just didn't get along, whatsoever. For what reason, he didn't know. He couldn't really pinpoint the moment where he really began to hate him. Sure, Eren was self-righteous and annoyingly loud. Jean shook his head. It didn't take much to set him off, really, so why was Eren any different? He guessed that was the point.

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

Eren smiled and clapped him on the back before beginning to depart to his next class.

"Eren, wait."

Said boy turned, eyebrows raised.

Jean shoved his hands in his pockets, setting his stone face again. "Tell Blondie to mind his own business next time." Instead of waiting for a response, Jean headed to his own class. He'd had enough sentimentality for one day. It was true that Armin's presence that day in the cemetery was more of a comfort to him than anything else had been. Hell, Jean was sure that he would have been a total mess at school if he hadn't had the opportunity to in front of him. Better Armin—forgiving, empathetic, steadfast Armin—than all these people he didn't even know. Still, he didn't ask for him to be there. In truth, he hated the squirt. He unsettled him unlike any other. He hated feeling that way, more than anything.

* * *

He went weeks without even acknowledging Armin in the hallways. He was still trying to deal with the loss of Marco, and while it got more… not exactly bearable, but manageable, he still refused to speak much to anyone. Oh, Armin tried. He was a persistent little prick. Armin said hello whenever he had the chance, approached him at the lunch table before Jean immediately got up and walked away, and tried to sit by him whenever possible. When Jean couldn't avoid his close proximity, he did his best to avoid conversing with him. Armin tried his hardest to no avail. Jean just wasn't ready to come even close to talking about the day of the funeral.

It probably would have carried on like this even longer if he hadn't overheard a conversation between Eren and Armin one day after school. He'd been taking a different route home, a longer one, because he needed a bit of extra time to think before returning home to his erratic, overprotective mother. What he didn't expect was to hear two familiar voices just around the corner.

"Honestly, Armin, just let it go." Jean froze where he sat and listened a bit harder. It was Jaeger. Jean pressed his back against the nearby fence, peeking around when he could to survey the scene. "Even if Jean is still grieving—and I'm not saying he isn't, or that he doesn't have a right to—he's always going to be cold-hearted. Trying so hard to be his friend just isn't gonna work." Jean sneered. _Cold-hearted, my ass._

He heard Armin sigh. "He's not as bad as you all think. Or, at least, he has potential to be a lot better, potential that the rest of you don't see."

"Don't you remember me telling you to lay off from day one, though? Jean himself told me to tell you as much, and I did."

"And I told you then, just like I'm gonna tell you again, right now, that I can't do that. He'll never admit it, but what he needs most right now is a friend. Think about it. Marco was the only one he talked to, the only one he was ever around, the only person he could remotely stand. Now, Jean's got nothing. He may think he wants to be alone, but you can't cure loneliness with more loneliness."

They both were silent for a moment after that. Finally, Eren sighed. "Well, go ahead and waste all the time you want on him, then. I trust you to do what's best for yourself. Just don't let him wrap you up in all his craziness. I'll see you tonight for study group." Eren shoved his hands in his pockets and continued on, leaving Armin behind. The blonde boy stood there for a bit, shoving a hand through his hair. Jean furrowed his brow. Why was he just standing there? Then Armin approached the house, the same house the fence Jean was hiding behind was attached to. _Is this his house?_ Jean accidentally tripped over one of the bush branches getting a closer look and made quite the racket falling out of his hiding place. He could feel a nice scrape on his forearm. "Goddammit," Jean hissed, then he looked up, realizing Armin had totally seen him. Said guy was looking down at him in total shock.

"Jean?! What are you doing there?"

"You know, that's a fantastic fucking question." Jean stood up, brushing himself off, hissing at the sting the scrape on his arm gave him.

"Kind of creepy, don't you think? Stalking?" Armin appraised him with an eyebrow.

Jean scoffed. "I'm not stalking you. I was just…"

"Listening in, then?"

"No, no! Well, at least, not on purpose…"

Armin laughed. "God, relax. You're acting like you got caught murdering someone." His face got a bit more somber. "What all did you hear?"

Jean had a hand on his hip, hesitating before answering. "You know, Eren's probably right. Being friends with me is a bad idea."

"Well, if you get to know me, Jean, you'll find out that I never have bad ideas. I'm pretty smart, for a shrimp." Armin raised an eyebrow at him as he used the word Jean had called him a few weeks prior, and pretty much whenever possible.

"Look, that's not… I mean, you're not a…"

"Apology accepted." Armin grinned. He gestured toward the house. "Want to come inside? Mom's got some good food. You could come to the study group later, too, if you wanted. A bunch of people will be there. Eren, Mikasa, Reiner, Bertolt, Annie…"

"Study group?" Jean tried to feign ignorance, to no avail.

"Nice try. So, how about it? Eren's been freaking about Mr. Shadis' quiz tomorrow. I know you guys have that class together."

Jean felt himself lock up as always, afraid to make any interactions. He looked away, kicking a pebble at his feet. "N-no. No. I'm just gonna go home. I got… stuff to do."

"Ah. Well, I guess... See you later, Jean." Armin didn't fight further, turning around and going up the steps to his front door.

Jean bit his lip as he looked back up to watch him go. He balanced his choices: he could go back home and feel safer within himself knowing he'd saved himself further vulnerability. He could study by himself, anyway. He was a good student. Smart. Not nearly as smart as Armin, that was for sure. He knew enough to know that much. Still, he'd been holed up in his house for weeks. The lack of human interaction was starting to get to him. He could only bear so much talk with his mother at a time.

 _You can't cure loneliness with more loneliness._

"Armin, wait!"

The blonde turned, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"D-do, uh…. D'you think you could give me a ride to that study group?" Jean struggled to get the words out. He never asked favors from anyone.

Armin responded with a smile so warm and bright Jean would have sworn the kid was secretly stuffed with sunshine. "Sure. Stop by my house around 5:45, okay?"

* * *

Three and a half years later, Jean and his friends were tossing their caps at graduation. In all that time, he never imagined being here, in this moment, considering any of them friends. Yet here he was, tossing his cap, snapping pictures with them while their families surrounded them, crying and blubbing. He'd always been a selfish, snobbish person. At least, Eren told him as much whenever he got the chance, though lately it wasn't without a sarcastic smirk and a slap on the back. At first, Jean complained and whined that No, I am not, Jaeger. He'd been right, though. Eren usually was. He let people know it from time to time as well. What a dick. Jean shook his head, smiling slightly, as he watched Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Reiner, Bertolt, Annie, Sasha, Connie, Ymir, and Christa hugging one another and laughing together.

Never in a million years did he think he would ever be sentimental and nostalgic, but as Armin came up to him gleefully to hug him, shouting, "Jean, we did it! We graduated! Where does the time go?" he could help but reminisce on all the joy this one person had brought into his life. Armin had helped Jean make more friends. Armin had joined the track team with him so Jean had a pastime to, for lack of a better word, distract him. Jean had actually grown to love track. He'd been there to tutor him in subjects he struggled with. He'd been there to guide him through the brief, irrational crush he'd had on Mikasa. He'd been there for every cry of joy, bout of anger, phase of arrogance, and cloud of sorrow. He'd helped Jean grow into a better person.

Jean liked to think he'd helped Armin, too. Armin wasn't as shy or tentative as he used to be. He stood up for himself. He flirted with his fair share of girls. There was that brief thing he'd had with Annie back in sophomore year, before he'd caught her in a closet with Reiner at a party. There weren't any hard feelings anymore, and Armin hadn't let it mess with him too much. He was still the ray of sunshine he'd always been.

The two of them had really grown physically the last few years as well. Jean hadn't gotten much taller since he was fairly tall to begin with, but he'd gotten more muscular. Armin was the real physical specimen. At least, compared to what he'd looked like before. He'd grown at least a foot taller (though still shorter than Jean), his voice had gotten deeper, his body was much more toned, and his hair was long enough that he kept it in a bun atop his head most of the time. He used to get teased for it, but ever since their friendship had gotten more public, Jean shot people death glares if they even attempted any amount of ridicule against Armin.

"I know, man! College is gonna be a blast. Maybe we'll finally get you a girlfriend," Jean teased.

"You're one to talk! You haven't dated anyone for as long as I've known you," Armin retorted.

"Touché, my friend. Don't say that so loud, though," Jean chuckled. "Those words are basically babe repellant."

"Boys, turn around! I gotta have a picture of you two!" Armin's mother called to us, camera in hand. They posed obediently, one arm around each other and opposite hands extending their diplomas in the air.

"Alright, boys, you go ahead. Now remember, Armin, your father and I have a plane to catch in just a little bit. We'll be back by next week at the earliest. His business trip might take a long time. We're not entirely sure. Anyway, if you even think about throwing any parties, I'll kill you."

"Got it, Mom." Armin rolled his eyes. "You know I've always been the partying type."

"There's no harm in trying." She grinned and kissed his cheek. Armin's dad approached the small group and took his wife's hand.

"Jean, if you come over this weekend—which I'm sure you will—don't drink all the Dr. Pepper. I had to buy a new pack last time."

"Sorry, Mr. Arlert." Jean laughed and he and Armin waved the two of them off.

"You're gonna drink all the Dr. Pepper, aren't you?"

"Oh, you know I am."

"Yo, Armin, Jean!" They looked over to see Eren approaching them, Mikasa attached at his hip. "You guys are coming to the Senior All-Night Party, right?"

"Of course." Jean nodded to the remaining seven of their group. "I hear there's gonna be laser tag. You know we gotta get into a round or three together."

"Totally," Eren agreed, nodding. "What time are you guys gonna be there?"

"Not sure. Jean's got family over at his house, but he said he'd text me as soon as they've headed home. He's my ride, after all."

"Jesus, Armin, when are you gonna get a car?"

"I have a permanent chauffeur, what do I need a car for?" Armin got a swift smack to the back of the head, and he rubbed the spot, laughing. "Alright, alright. Kidding. Mostly."

"I'll leave you guys to it, then. See ya later!" Eren waved as he disappeared into the crowd with Mikasa, and Armin looked over at Jean.

"Any lingering feelings?"

"What, for Mikasa?" Jean looked over to see her vanish among the sea of people. "Maybe six months ago. Now? Not really. Seeing her follow Jaeger around like a puppy started to get old."

"You think Eren will ever notice she's completely in love with him?"

"I doubt it. He's always been pretty dense."

"I have to agree with you, at least in this instance."

There was a sharp whistle, and Jean looked over to see his mother waving him over, signaling it was time to go home and complete the mission of talking to his family members enough to bore them into leaving the house. "It's time for me to go into the lion's den, Armin."

"Good luck with that, man. I'll just be at home alone eating Oreos."

"Save some for me!"

"Yupp, sure thing, just like you'll save some Dr. Pepper for my dad!"

"Oh, that was low."

"Aaaaand look there's Krista! I should go say hi." Armin waved as he walked off. "See you later!"

Jean waved back, and as he turned to head home with his mother, he didn't understand why he felt so antsy. Especially recently, he felt this way whenever he and Armin parted ways, however short a time that was for. He mostly attributed it to a desperate need for a friend after Marco's death in the beginning, but after a year, gaining more friends, another year, and another year, Jean wasn't what to pinpoint it to anymore. Armin was his best friend. Surely that was the only reason.

* * *

Later that night, at around 10pm, Armin was climbing inside Jean's car. "Alright, let's go!" he said, reaching behind him to buckle his seatbelt. Jean caught a whiff of Armin's cologne on the way in, and he inhaled it a bit more, softly. It calmed him. Armin had his hair up in his signature bun, showing off his sharp jaw and cheekbones. He wore a v-neck t-shirt that slightly clung to his chest and abdomen, with faded jeans and vans to match. Armin always had a good sense of style. Then again, Jean reasoned, the guy could wear a dirty sweatshirt and ripped gym shorts and still look good. It was something he always envied about Armin. He'd shared this fact with Eren once and was rewarded with a weird look. Jean didn't understand why, but he didn't speak of it again anyway.

"Jean. Earth to Jean. You gonna put the car into drive or what?"

He blinked and looked up at Armin's penetrating gaze, the way he was frowning at him impatiently. He shook himself out of his reverie and did as he was told. "Sorry. We're going." Armin seemed he couldn't care less about his behavior and launched into a rant about the last episode of a show on Netflix he'd just finished. The conversation on his part was mostly silent as he half listened to the blonde, and half pondered his behavior as of late. Since when had Armin's cologne been a comforting scent? Since when did he pay attention to the way his clothing clung to his figure? Why did his close observations and admirations of the boy seem so out of place to everyone else? To Jean, it didn't seem weird at all. It felt comfortable. It felt natural. Why did he feel the need to hide it?

He was continuously troubled with this even as they entered the party and joined up with their friends. They gambled in the gambling room using fake money to buy tickets for the raffle, they played a few rounds of pool, and they got in line for laser tag in the dark room. He and Armin ended up being on separate teams; he was with Mikasa, Bertolt, Ymir, and Annie, whereas Armin was teamed up with Eren, Reiner, Christa, Connie, and Sasha.

"No fair, your team has six people—what gives?" Ymir complained as she picked up her gun.

"Someone's has to. Besides, you've got Mikasa and Annie. They're basically the bread and butter of fighting."

"And I'm not?" Jean complained.

"Dude, you think you're the bread and butter of everything." Eren laughed.

"It's because I am, of course."

"As if, Jeany-boy." Ymir elbowed him. "If we were on opposite teams, I'd wipe your ass all over the floor."

"Want to put that to the test later?"

"Gladly."

"Alright, everyone, in your positions!" the laser tag runner announced loudly. "And… 3, 2, 1, GO!"

Everyone ran inside shouting battle cries of a diverse variety. Jean could feel his blood pumping. He enjoyed things like this. Any chance to beat Eren at something was a chance he was more than willing to take. He'd played paintball a few times, and it was relatively the same, minus the pain and the mess of getting shot. The one time he'd taken Armin with him was a hilarious memory. The amount of terror the blonde had exhibited had him in laughing fits from time to time. The way he'd shook like a willow tree in a wind storm, the way he'd gripped his gun too hard, shooting on accident at times, the way his lower lip was caught in the rough vice of his teeth as he worried the skin raw there… Jean shook his head. He needed to focus, needed a game like this to keep his head clear. Honestly, what was going on?

He stationed himself behind one of the defense blocks on the enemy side, waiting for them to pass by him. A few people he got without them noticing, and he chuckled as they groaned out loud, wondering, "How the hell did I get hit?" Once Eren passed by him and Jean got a few good shots at him. He noticed, however, and shouted, "Fucking camper!"

"You mean _winner_ , Jaeger!" Jean was laughing to himself, though he got up to move to a different spot further back. Sure, no one would really run back here, but he could peek around the corner from here and get a shot at whoever came into view. Without realizing it at first, he trapped himself in an obscure corner with Armin, who had been hiding there to avoid getting hit as much as possible. The only thing that alerted Jean to the fact was his gun going off, alerting him that he'd been shot. "Fucking hell. What?" He looked around until his eyes rested on Armin behind him, who was grinning viciously.

"Haha! That's what you get, Jean." Armin continued to shoot at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration. Jean couldn't help but watch the action distractedly. Once again, it brought back memories and a rush of warmth he didn't anticipate. Armin's shooting slowly began to recede as he realized Jean wasn't shooting back, his triumphant grin receding to a confused frown. He cocked his head at his best friend. "Dude, what the hell? It's no fun if you don't participate. What happened to your fighting spirit, huh, campe—"

Armin was immediately cut off as Jean crossed over to him, backing him further into the darkest corner in the room, out of everyone's watching eye, and pressed his open mouth against Armin's. Immediately his senses were lit on fire. He could feel every nerve ending, every brush of skin on skin. The kiss was wet and sloppy and very, very hot. There was a moment of unresponsiveness on Armin's part, which made Jean pull back a centimeter, lidded eyes surveying his face. It was completely flushed and off-guard. Lovely. Tempting. It took Jean by surprise when Armin lifted his chin to reunite their lips again. Jean let out a strangled sigh and, with the hand that wasn't holding his gun, reached out to grip the small of his back, pressing them together. Armin's unoccupied hand reached up to grip the back of Jean's neck. The shouts and laughter around them began to diminish, the only sounds registering in Jean's head were the desperate gasps coming from Armin's throat. Jean dipped his tongue inside his mouth, touching it to the blonde's, who let out a short groan, fingers reaching up to rake through the short dark hair at the back of Jean's head. Jean dropped a hand down to the hem of Armin's shirt, fingertips darting underneath to touch the skin at his hip. Armin's lips wrenched away from his to inhale a sharp gasp at the contact. Their faces stayed close together, breaths mingling as Jean watched his hand wander further upward, dragging the shirt with it.

"Time's up! Everyone out!"

The two froze as their gazes flew to each other. What Jean had done suddenly dawned on him, and his hand pulled away from Armin's body sharply. Sounds began to rush back to Jean's consciousness: the footsteps of their retreating friends, shouts of victory and defeat, and the miscellaneous buzz outside the room where the rest of the party was located. Armin's hand slowly slid back and down from Jean's neck, hanging loosely at his side. They stood there for what seemed an eternity but was probably only a few seconds. Jean realized that if they didn't move now, suspicion was likely to rise from their friends. With great effort, he wrenched himself away from Armin a pace or two. "Go on," Jean said, not recognizing his own voice. "I'll go after you."

He saw Armin swallow out of the corner of his eye before he obeyed, making his way out of the dark room. It began to dawn on Jean that someone might have already seen them. He wiped a hand down his face in exasperation. He couldn't even begin to imagine what that must have looked like to someone like Reiner or Connie or, God forbid, Eren. He didn't have the time to worry about it, though. The group would start to worry for one, and for two, the laser tag workers were keeping a tight schedule with the shooting sessions. Taking a calming breath, he launched himself forward and out of the room, meeting the brighter lights outside.

Everyone seemed pretty uninterested in Jean's slightly late appearance. There was too much boasting and trash talking from one person to the other. He didn't even know which team had won. At this point, he didn't really care.

The rest of the night was a blur. The eleven of them made their way around the party, going to each of the attractions a few times before the final ticket deposits for the raffles started. Eren, Bertolt, and Reiner boasted to one another over who had the most tickets, each carrying a good sum in their arms. They were beat to the dust as Mikasa and Annie passed by them, the tickets in their arms overflowing. The three boys gaped and groaned at the sight. Jean hadn't had his head in the gambling, and ended up wasting away most of the money he had. He ended up with a measly 10 tickets to deposit. Armin came up to him to show he'd won a bit more, but not much. He wore an expectant smile on his face, though Jean could tell he was a bit more reserved than usual. Jean didn't respond, not knowing what to do or how to act. The unspoken actions between them seemed to sever his knowledge of how they usually behaved towards one another. Armin tried a few more times to interact with him as they put their tickets in the buckets, but eventually gave up. It was like freshman year all over again, Jean thought ruefully.

As expected, their friends with their mountain of tickets ended up winning a good handful of prizes. He and Armin didn't win anything, though they reacted with no chagrin or distress. After the raffle was done, it was time for everyone to go home. It was nearly 3 in the morning, but Jean's nerves were still alight. He and Armin helped carry heavy prize winnings to peoples' cars before saying their final goodbyes. Jean swallowed as he realized a long car ride with Armin awaited him.

It was the most stressful 15 minutes of his life. Neither of them spoke. Armin refused to look in his direction, chin propped up in his hand as he gazed out the passenger window. Jean spared glances at him often, catching little details like the wisps of hair that had escaped the bun and lingered around his face and neck, or the hand on his left knee that clenched and unclenched sporadically, or the uneven puffs of breath that fell from his parted lips. He eventually had to focus his attention wholly on the road. He didn't trust his driving when he was so distracted like that.

Jean finally arrived at Armin's house and released an internal sigh of relief as he parked in the driveway. They both stepped out of the car and approached the house in silence. It was routine for Jean to walk Armin to the door, because they usually stopped inside to finish up whatever conversation they were having, grabbed some food, and Jean caught up with Armin's parents. Jean stopped at the top step this time, though, unsure how to proceed, if he even should. Armin realized this as he stepped over the threshold and turned back to look at him. They stared at each other wordlessly. Armin—sweet, tentative, shy Armin, the Armin Jean knew from their early days—stared at his shoes and gripped the door handle. Jean wanted to reach out and touch that hand, make it relax, take it in his own. He wanted to do much more than that. He wrestled with himself. _Think about your friendship. Think about all the kindness he's shown you. Think of how you'll be taking advantage of him. Think…_

Too soon, Armin said. "Uh, I'll… I'll text you. See you tomorrow." The door began to close.

Jean sprang alive, approaching the door. "Armin, wait—"

The door was thrown open and they fell into each other's arms, mouths meeting hotly. Jean slammed the door behind them and Armin crushed him against it. Tongues wrestled for dominance as their hands roamed greedily over one another. Jean wasted no time to wrench the blonde's shirt over his head. The collar of it caught in his hair, more strands of it falling from the confines of the bun, and they framed his beautiful face. The shirt was tossed to the other side of the room, forgotten. Their mouths danced around one another, brushing each other but not quite meeting. Armin's hands settled just below Jean's jaw, caressing the area with his thumbs, while his own hands gripped Armin's hip and the small of his back. He traced the small indent, the muscled there flexing and the skin so smooth. Jean felt he could looked into his eyes forever, their blue depths never-ending, but his hunger for the boy in that moment was much stronger as his hands reached up to grip his hair and pulling him back to his lips fully.

Their bodies were completely lined up from head to toe. Jean could feel every inch of Armin's taut body against his, every tense nerve. He could feel the uneven rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took. He could feel the flexing of his arms around him. He could also feel the insistent twitch of his erection against his inner thigh. Jean knew his was doing the same, pressing just below where Armin's belly button was. As Armin hastily unbuttoned his shirt, Jean went to work on their jeans, all but ripping open the top buttons and wrenching down the zippers. He reached into their underwear and freed the both of them from their clothing confines. They hissed in unison at the feeling of skin against skin—their chests brushing, erections touching, and Jean's hand gripping the both of them. Armin closed his eyes tightly for a brief moment as if in pain before opening them and looking up at Jean with a desperation he hadn't seen before in his best friend's eyes. The blonde's fingers fastened in the brunette's hair as he pulled him down for another heated kiss that told Jean all he needed to know: _Please._

He began to massage the both of them, using the bit of precum on the tips to ease the process. Armin groaned loudly, nodding subconsciously. _Yes. Don't stop._ Jean was all too eager to comply. It felt too good to stop. As he continued, their hips subconsciously ground into each other. The friction increased in a short amount of time, as did their pleasure, but Jean could feel himself getting dry because of the former. He suspected as much of Armin as well. Chafing was the last thing he wanted right now, when he was so close. He could nearly taste it. Armin broke the kiss and took Jean's hand from their cocks, making Jean release a strangled sound from his throat in complaint. It was completely halted when he saw him lash his tongue out and cover his hand in saliva. The sight was a shot of testosterone straight to Jean's groin. Armin guided the hand back to their unattended cocks, tracing his now wet hand against them. Jean's grip returned, Armin's hand wrapped around his. They brought each other to completion, mouths hovering over each other as strings of moans were ripped from their throats. Jean saw light explode behind his eyes, and he had to force them shut. Their hands eventually slowed down until they stopped altogether, their cocks becoming too sensitive as the basked in the afterglow of their orgasm. Jean's head fell into the crook of Armin's neck. He was suddenly overcome with an exhaustion that had nothing to do with how late they were up. "Armin, I… That…"

To Jean's shock, the boy in his arms was suddenly very much not in his arms. He looked up and watched as the blonde wordlessly grabbed a tissue box from an end table and cleaned himself off. He then approached Jean and did the same for him, his movements rushed but gentle. Jean never took his eyes of Armin. He tossed the soiled tissues in a nearby trash bin and tucked himself back in his jeans. "Jean, I…"

"Yes?" Jean tucked himself in as well and zipped back up his jeans.

"You should go."

Jean's hands froze on the buttons of his shirt. "What?"

Armin was distracted, though, searching the room for something. "Dammit, where did you throw my shirt?"

"Armin, hold on here."

"Don't!" he shouted, glaring at him. Jean stared at him, wide-eyed. Armin had shouted before, but never at him, never in anger. He didn't have a temper when it came to his best friend.

"Please… Can't we talk? Can't we…"

"No. Not right now. I can't think."

Jean walked over to him, shirt still half unbuttoned. "Look, I can help you find your shirt."

"Jean!" Armin whirled at him, eyes filled with exasperation. He must have seen the look of hurt on the brunette's face, because he deflated slightly. "The shirt doesn't matter. Just… you need to go."

"Armin—"

"Please." He pleaded. Blue eyes trembled. "Please go."

Jean looked at him for a long time. He hated to find that the sound of Armin begging now, so different compared to the begging he'd done in the heat of passion not five minutes previous, was much more painful than any level of anger directed at him had been. He backed away toward the door, body deflating in defeat. "Alright. You don't have to beg. I'll go."

He didn't look back at Armin as he shut the door behind him, didn't look through the window as he got in his car and drove away. He barely remembered to lock his car door as he returned home and exited the car. He bypassed the bathroom entirely, skipping his nightly routine as he threw off everything but his boxers and crawled into his bed, covering himself as much as possible. It took forever for him to finally find sleep, and when he did, he slept restlessly. No dreams came. He ignored his mother's call in the morning, and at noon, and even when he'd gotten enough sleep, refused to leave his room other than to piss.

He didn't contact Armin. Armin didn't contact him.

* * *

Watching Jean walk out the door with that look on his face, so hurt and resigned, almost made Armin call out to him. _Wait, don't go. Come back. I'm sorry._ His mouth stayed clamped shut, though. He watched him go through the window, eyes on his tail lights until they were completely out of sight. Finally, he slumped down on the couch and put his head in his hands. What had he just done? No, more than that. What the hell had just happened? Not just now, but all night. Jean had been fine at the graduation ceremony. Things were totally normal. Then on the car ride over to the party, he'd been extremely quiet and reserved. Very unlike him. Things went a bit smoother at the party. They gambled, they played games. But then… Armin's fingers brushed over his lips, remembering. They still stung. Sensations and recent memories began to flood over him. Lips on skin, tongues lashing, fingers gripping. Sensual fire.

"God," Armin choked. He hung his head, gripping the hair at the back of his head. Wordlessly, he began to sob. _What now? What do I do?_

 _Where did you go, Jean?_

* * *

Jean woke up to his alarm the following Monday morning, and he groaned. Work. To make things worse, he had today's shift at Dick's Sporting Goods with none other than Jaeger-bombastic. He could picture that conversation going just perfectly. That is, if Eren had seen anything. Hopefully not.

For the first couple hours, things went smoothly. Eren didn't seem to act like anything was out of place. He was chatty with customers like always. Jean let him take the reins with most customer interaction while he busied himself with other things. Around noon, the manager sent Jean to the back to check on the stock, and he obeyed with no complaint. He was going through fishing lures and rods when Eren appeared behind him.

"Armin hasn't texted me at all this weekend. What's up?"

Jean froze at the sound of his voice. He took a second to recover. "What do you mean?"

"Come on. Armin doesn't go a single day without some form of contact with me. Not in all the years we've been friends. He might be your best friend, but I know him better than anyone."

Jean turned to see Eren regarding him with a raised eyebrow and an inquiring expression. "I've got nothing to report. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to report our supply numbers back—"

"I saw you guys. Saturday night. Laser tag."

He paused. His eyes whipped back to the green eyed boy. He reached out threateningly to grip him by the shirt collar. "If you've got some sort of twisted motive here…"

Eren held his hands up in surrender. "Dude, relax. I wasn't gonna tell anyone. I'm not trying to blackmail you with this, either." He nodded at Jean's grip. "So, you wanna, like, let me go, or…"

Jean exhaled sharply, but relented. He let go and folded his arms in front of his chest. "Well, you gotta have some reason for bringing it up."

"Yeah. To end this self-pitying tirade you seem to be on right now. You're fucking quiet as hell today, man. You think I can't tell when you're upset about something?"

"Didn't know you cared so much, Jaeger."

"Not so much you as I do Armin. The guy is pretty much a brother to me. One thing I know about him is he cares about you more than anything, so if you guys are on the rocks, something's up."

Jean scoffed. "Yeah. He cares a whole lot. I could tell he really cared when he seemed pretty eager for me to get as far away from him as possible that night."

"From my angle, you guys seemed pretty close. Literally."

"God, really, Eren?"

"My point being," Eren interceded, "is that there's some sort of missing puzzle piece missing here. The situation doesn't make sense without it. Trust me, I'd rather deepthroat hot coals than discuss the dirty details of your relationship—"

"You're making this way gayer than it has to be—"

"—But I just want Armin to be happy. To tell you the truth, you make him happy."

Jean was quiet for a moment. He leaned against the nearby shelf, staring at the ground. "You, uh, you think so?"

"Duh. I can tell he makes you happy, too. Otherwise, you wouldn't be so mopey over whatever fight you're having."

He didn't talk for a while. Stared at the ground again, mostly. He honestly had a million things to say, to ask. He just didn't know which one to address first. Eren spoke first, anyway.

"Have you tried talking to him since Saturday?"

"You kidding? Hell no. He kicked me out of his house. It was pretty clear talking was the last thing he wanted to do."

"What the hell were you guys doing in his house?"

"Irrelevant, Jaeger." Jean gave him a pointed look.

"Right, yeah, whatever. What I really should ask is, why is that holding you back now? Just text him. If he doesn't answer, go over to his house. Be persistent."

"You know, it's that kind of behavior that gets people into restraining orders."

"You can't be afraid of losing him as a friend, Jean. I know that's probably what you're worried about if you force him to talk about it." Eren put his hands in his pockets, looking at Jean with an empathetic expression. It was the most positive look he had ever seen directed at him from the guy. "Also, you gotta understand where he's coming from."

"What do you mean?"

"You bullied the guy for a good long while before you guys even remotely became friends. Even if he never resented you for it, and he's forgiven and forgotten all that, there still might be some part of him that's afraid you're still that guy."

"But I'm not—"

"I _know._ But that's not the point. Does _he_? Does _he_ know?"

"Of course he does!" Jean said, exasperated, though he didn't sound too convincing. Probably because he wasn't entirely sure himself.

"Well, then grow a pair and go on over there to profess your undying love already."

"Hang on. I never said anything about love."

"You never said anything about _not_ love."

Jean didn't say anything. _Love?_ Really? Eren had to be out of his mind. _I'm not in love with him. I'm not gay. I've never liked guys before. I just… want to have crazy hot sex with my best friend and spend all hours of the day with him? No, that came out wrong. What?_

… _Holy shit._

Eren grinned when he saw the realization dawn on his face. "Let me know how it goes, then." He made his way to leave.

Jean straightened. "Eren. You're not gonna… tease me about this? Call me gay, all that shit?"

Eren sighed, facing him again. "Honestly, I wouldn't care if you were. But I don't think you are. That bizarre crush you had on Mikasa testifies that much. Sometimes when you love someone, you just do, regardless of all the societal bullshit."

Jean thought about that. Huh. Jaeger was being deep as fuck. He didn't expect that from him. It was… refreshing. "Alright. Fair enough. Uh… thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Jean followed him out as they went back to their stations. He grinned. "You know, since we're on the topic, you should have a talk with Mikasa about unspoken feelings."

"Wait, what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

* * *

Later that evening, Jean was parked in Armin's driveway. He skipped on the texting and calling and just decided to get the most nerve-wracking part over with. The worst Armin could do was tell him he no longer wanted to be friends. Which, Jean thought, swallowing, was really horrible. He'd be devastated. It pained him to be away from Armin any longer, though. He had to try.

Jean probably stood at the door for a solid two or three minutes, lifting his hand to knock and putting it back down. His heart was beating so fast he felt like it would jump out his throat. _Goddammit, Jean, quit being a pussy._ He forced himself to knock, making a few sharp raps on the door before turning away, taking a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He turned back around at the sound of the opening door, and he immediately looked up at Armin's bright blue eyes, disheveled blonde hair down and framing his face. The rest of the world dropped away. It was just the two of them.

"Armin. Hey. I, uh…" Jean swiped a hand through his already messy hair. Where to begin? "Look, I know you're probably still mad at me. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that. I just… had an urge. No, that came out wrong. It wasn't just an urge. You're not a deposit for my sexual needs. God, no. Shit. Um… Let me start over. I'm s—"

"Jean." He looked up to see Armin smirking. Smirking, of all things. What the hell? Armin reached out to him. He stared at his hand and hesitated. Armin beckoned him again, and he took his hand. The blonde drew him inside, shutting the door. "You're an idiot," he whispered, and before Jean could think he kissed him.

Jean let out a sound of surprise, but Armin just continued to kiss him, winding his arms around his shoulders. Caught up momentarily in the feeling of his mouth on his, Jean gripped him back, hands at his hips. The kiss was sweet, slow, sensual, so different from the kisses they shared previously. It melted him. He had to pull back after a moment, though. "Wait, I—" Armin ignored his protest, kissing him again. Again, Jean fell into it for a moment before really insisting. Armin let him this time. "I just… I can't have you reject me like that again. I can't." He could feel how desperate his face must have looked, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Armin's face softened. He looked up at the brunette, brushed his hair with his fingertips, and took his face gently in his hands. "I won't. I promise."

Jean wanted to go more into it—ask all the questions that were on his mind: _Why did you send me away? Why are you holding me now? Tell me how you feel about me. Armin…_

His desire got the best of him—at this close proximity he could feel the rapid heartbeat in Armin's chest, and the warm breath fanning across his face from those beautifully parted lips. He leaned down to meet Armin again, and their mouths engaged in a rough battle of pushing and pulling, taking and giving. Jean started to take more charge in the kiss, and his tongue lashed out to trace the perimeter of Armin's mouth before he sank his teeth gently into the bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. The blonde let out a soft moan, fingers hooking into the belt loops on his partner's jeans as he yanked his hips against his own. Tongues intertwined, hot and messy. Armin made quick work on Jean's shirt and it was soon tossed aside. Jean kicked off his shoes and undid his belt, flinging them both off and away. His fingers dug greedily into the skin of Jean's exposed chest and abdomen, all lean muscle and tanned skin. "God," Armin hissed. The sound made Jean groan and grip his chin to bring his mouth back to his own. Jean's dexterous hands removed Armin's shirt as well so he could feel their chests against each other, heartbeats beating erratically next to one another.

He fisted a hand into the blonde's long hair, guiding his head slightly to one side so he could place his open mouth against the underside of Armin's clean-shaven jaw. "Ahh," Armin sighed. The blonde dug his fingers into the brunette's hips reflexively. Jean continued to suck at the pulse points all along his neck, some a little rougher than others. He wanted to mark Armin, make sure he didn't forget these moments, so full of heat and repressed desires. Jean's lips lifted from his skin to cry out when Armin ground his hips into his own.

"Fuck," Jean growled. He reached out and grabbed at Armin's thighs, hoisting him up and hooking his legs around his waist, backing them into the nearest wall. Armin's back hit it with a rough thud before their open mouths met again. Hips began grinding against each other, and they were both lost in a sea of pleasure. Hands gripped each other, lips moved against one another. Soon, Jean came up for air, breaking the kiss, and Armin leaned forward to rest his head in the crook of Jean's neck. Their movements became less rushed, and instead they moved sensually against one another. Soft, sweet, gentle. Jean ran his hands through Armin's silky smooth hair, pressing his lips to the soft spots of his neck.

 _I love you. Armin. I love you._

"Jean." Armin lifted his head, eyes heavily lidded as he looked down at his hazel eyed companion.

"Yeah?" Jean said breathlessly.

"I doubt my parents would appreciate us making a mess here in the living room," Armen murmured.

"I doubt they would appreciate us doing what we're doing right now in the first place," he replied, smirking a bit.

"You never know." Armin smiled and wiggled out of Jean's hold between him and the wall, only to take Jean's hand and lead him down the hallway to his room. Jean looked around the room, at all the posters and other décor that was as familiar as his own room. They'd been in here alone together a thousand times before, but not under these circumstances.

Jean flushed, not sure where to start, but he didn't have to wonder for long. Armin let go of his hand to lay down on the bed, head resting on the nearest pillow. The sight made him exhale in delight: golden hair surrounding him like a halo, face flushed with color, lidded blue eyes shining, slender fingertips resting on his toned stomach, skin as pale as fresh snow. So breathtaking. Jean didn't have a better word to describe him. That's what he was: absolutely breathtaking. He crouched down and got on the bed as well, crawling towards him. Armin's arms beckoned him, and Jean sank into them effortlessly, their lips meeting once again. He knew he could stay there forever, in his arms. They were home to him.

Jean's jeans were incredibly stiff at this point, and by the prodding he could feel pressing into his stomach from Armin's jeans, he suspected his blonde companion was in a similar situation. He broke the kiss and stared into his blue eyes as he reached down to squeeze Armin through the thick fabric. He wanted to watch his every reaction, every desperate gasp of air.

"Nngh," Armin groaned, hips bucking slightly.

Jean continued, rubbing and squeezing over the thick boundary. He enjoyed teasing Armin. The look on his face was incredibly satisfying.

Armin was having none of it, though. "Jesus fuck, Jean. Stop teasing me."

Jean's eyes widened slightly, and he grinned. "Desperate, aren't we? I love watching such vulgar words pour from your pretty mouth." Hearing himself say things like this was totally shell-shocking, but he invited it all the more. It excited him beyond reason. Jean squeezed him a bit harder.

"Ahh-hah," Armin gasped.

"As you wish," Jean murmured, and he slid his hand beneath the waistbands of his pants and boxers, gripping his cock tightly. Armin let out a strangled breath and bit down on his lip, snapping his eyes shut. Jean swiped his thumb over the head, humming in disapproval. "Watch, Armin. Don't look away. Watch." Jean made a couple strokes before releasing Armin and moving to unzip his pants. Armin opened his eyes again, and he watched as Jean captured him like prey, seducing him with his cat-like eyes and sliding his clothing off his body, leaving him completely exposed to the air, and to his predator. "Watch," Jean whispered again, and Armin nodded rapidly, head bouncing like a bobble head. _Yes. Yes, I'll watch. Just don't stop._

Armin's mouth opened on a silent O as Jean took the head of his cock into his mouth. It took him a moment to exhale, and the sound that same out with it was far from human. It fueled Jean's libido, and he continued to pleasure his partner. Given, Jean didn't know the first thing about sex with men, but he'd had a few blowjobs before. He knew what he liked. Maybe he could do the same things for Armin, and maybe find out what he liked in the process. So he gripped him at the base, pumping him steadily, as he swirled his tongue on and around the head, using his other hand to fondle with his balls. Armin was a bit restless around him, legs bending at the knees and toes curling. He locked his fingers in the hair above Jean's forehead, eyes fixed on what he was doing.

With just a little bit of increase in pace, Armin could feel himself getting close. Half of him wanted Jean to continue. It felt too good. _No. No, not yet. I want to… not yet…_

"Wait," Armin choked out just as he was on the brink. His hand went to Jean's face, prodding him to relent. Jean's surprised but curious eyes met his, and he smiled. "Your turn." Jean's eyes instantly darkened. He let Armin's hands guide him on his back as he waited in blissful agony for what Armin had in store for him. Armin's hands shook in anticipation as he removed Jean's clothing, eager to see him fully naked just like him. Once exposed, he let out a breath of reverence. "God, Jean…"

"Like what you see?" Jean said, waggling his eyebrows. He propped a knee up and spread his legs, showing off his goods.

Armin laughed. "You're so full of it." Jean's pose left perfect access for him, and he took full advantage of it. He reached out for Jean's cock and pumped him a few times, getting used to the feel of him in his hands. "Tell me how you like it," he said, and he trailed his tongue up the shaft, flicking his tongue on the tip.

"Ahhh! Fuck, you seem to be doing just fine on your own," Jean replied with a shaky laugh. He was propped up on his elbows, surveying Armin's work.

"Alright. How about this?" Armin dipped his head and took the mouth of his cock into his mouth, sucking gently. Jean groaned. Armin released him with a pop. "And this?" Armin dipped his head down and suckled one of Jean's balls into his mouth, pumping Jean's dick a bit harder.

"Ahh… shit…"

Armin had an idea pop into his head. He wasn't sure how successful he would be at it—he'd only heard of the technique in passing—but he doubted Jean cared about finesse. "Let's see how you like this."

Jean could only bear to watch for a couple seconds as Armin took him about 2/3 of the way in before he fell back on the pillow behind him and shut his eyes to the immense pleasure. "Goddammit, _fuuuuuck,_ Armin…" He wiped a hand over his face as he gripped the blonde's shoulder and laughed breathlessly. "Where the fuck did you learn tha-aaaaa…."

Armin came back up to catch his breath, coughing a bit. "I know what deepthroating is, Jean. I'm an 18-year-old guy. Plus," he said, licking up the side of Jean's cock, "it doesn't take an expert to try. Granted, I could use some, practice, but…"

"Oh, God, practice on me all you want."

Armin chuckled. "Not so full of it now, are we?"

"Shut up. You'll be full of it later."

Armin swallowed, catching on the implication. It only lit his blood on fire, though, and he hummed in satisfaction as he went back to his business. His work on his brunette partner pulled strings of groans and pleas from his throat, sounds the blonde never imagined to hear from him.

It didn't take long for Jean to nearly approach orgasm, either, and he reached out to pull Armin up next to him. His eyes were watery from the effort he'd put forth, and a trail of saliva crept from his lip to his chin. Jean reached up and used his thumb to wipe it away. "Perfect," he breathed, using the moisture on himself and rubbing it into his dick. Armin bit his lip as he did so, and leaned in to capture a kiss from Jean, who eagerly complied.

They both knew where this was ultimately headed, so neither of them said anything as Jean led Armin onto his back. Jean palmed his partner's ass with both hands, and used them to part Armin's cheeks, revealing the pink, sensitive pucker there. He traced the delicate skin with the tip of a finger, and heard Armin's sharp intake of breath. Jean's eyes flickered up to his, but he saw no uncertainty in their blue depths. Only anticipation. Jean reached his hand forward towards his mouth. "Open." Armin looked at the slender fingers for a second, and he licked his lips, looking back up at Jean as he obeyed, taking three of them into his mouth. He weaved his tongue through the digits, wetting them sufficiently.

"You have no idea how sexy you look when you do that," Jean breathed, and he pulled his fingers away, focusing his attention back on Armin's opening. It flexed in anticipation. He looked at Armin. "Relax. And don't look away from me," he instructed. Armin swallowed and nodded, and Jean pushed the first finger in.

Armin sucked in a breath, eyes wanting to squint shut, but he made an effort to keep watching Jean like he promised. He saw the question in his eyes and spoke up before he could ask. "I'm fine. Keep going."

Jean nodded, prodding around a bit with the first finger before adding the second. This one was a bit more difficult to get in, and by the sound of Armin's labored breathing, it was harder for him, too. "Breathe. Relax," Jean reminded him. He took the blonde's cock in his other hand and stroked it to make the process a bit easier. He flexed his fingers inside, a bit more exploratory, and as he felt himself brush against a certain spot Armin gasped loudly.

" _There_. God, there. Jean, again…"

Encouraged, he prodded the area more, and was rewarded with a long, loud moan from Armin. After a bit more of this, he asked. "Want me to do one more?"

"Yeah," he said, catching his breath a bit. "It'll… help it be better later."

Jean gazed down at Armin, reaching out to trace the fingers of his free hand over the curve of his cheekbones. He cupped his jaw as he leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on Armin's lips as he slid the third finger inside. He felt Armin lock up beneath him, mouth opening to pant heavily. Jean traced his thumb repeatedly over his jaw, soothing him as he continued to kiss him. Before he knew it, Armin had relaxed beneath him, and he wrapped his arms around his shoulders, returning the kiss in full force. Jean knew he was ready. He pulled his fingers and got up to his knees. Fisting his fingers in the hair at the back of Armin's head, he brought his mouth up to his cock. "Get it wet again."

Armin complied, gripping the hilt and taking the head into his mouth. He made quick work, making slurping sounds and hurried movements. Jean was happy to stay there forever, but he pulled away before long and lowered himself over Armin. Two breaths and he was sliding himself inside, pausing at the end of the head. Jean hissed. "Fuck. So tight…"

"Jean. Aghh, it…" Armin was whimpering, fingers clenching around Jean's biceps.

Jean struggled to hold himself still. "I know. I know. Just… hold on." He pushed little by little into Armin, until he was completely buried. Armin was a writing mess, and Jean felt bad for being so inattentive to him. He lowered himself a bit closer to him, collecting him in his arms. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry it hurts. Just… hold on. It'll get better, I swear." Even as he spoke, he was uncertain. How the hell was he supposed to know it would get better? He had no experience with this, no idea how it actually felt.

"No, it's alright. I'm just, ah, adjusting," Armin said, smirking a little bit. Jean could tell he was struggling, though.

"Do you want me to—" Jean reached down for Armin's cock, thinking he could provide some sort of relief.

"Ah! Jean, don't… don't move." Armin was wincing, and Jean stilled.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. Ah… Maybe..." Jean looked back down at Armin's cock, which was becoming flaccid. Jean bit his lip, panicking. Then, he had an idea. "Do you wanna try touching yourself?"

"Hmm?" Armin looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Touch yourself, Armin." Jean leaned his forehead against the blonde's. Their breaths mingled. "Let me see you. Do it."

Armin only hesitated for a second. He could see Jean's desperation and concern for him. So, he reached down and gripped his softening cock in his hands, beginning the strokes. After a bit, it got a little better. Jean leaned down to kiss him and it got even better. Soon, Armin was writhing beneath him, thrusting into his own hand, the pain all but forgotten.

Jean chuckled as he kissed Armin's jaw. "Better?"

"Yeah." He was fully hard again. "Go ahead."

Jean couldn't help but exhale a breath of relief as he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, the friction providing him the relief he needed. "Don't stop doing what you're doing, Armin," he gasped as he repeated the action. He continued the repetition and increased in speed bit by bit. Armin followed what Jean had told him for a little bit, but soon he was trembling as much as his taller partner was, and he couldn't focus on it anymore. He was hammering against what Armin guessed to be his prostate, and he was absolutely lost in the sensation. "Shit… Oh, my God. Oh, my God…"

"That's it, baby. Yes. Keep going," Jean panted. He was getting incredibly close. He took charge of stroking Armin, as said boy might as well have been lost to the world, and he was sure he wasn't going to last. That last bit of pleasure ended up pushing Armin off the cliff first, and he cussed more in that moment than Jean had ever heard him do in their years of friendship. He watched as Armin came all over his stomach, and as he came down from his high, he finally had enough consciousness to open his eyes and look up at Jean wearily.

Right then, Jean could feel himself begin to orgasm. He pulled out rapidly and jerked himself off to the sight of that gorgeous blue hue, his semen mixing with Armin's on his pale stomach.

Exhaustion creeped in on the both of them immediately after that. Jean forced himself to get up, though, and grab some tissues. This time, it was his turn to clean the both of them up, though it was Armin that needed the most work.

"You left a bit of a mess there," Armin said teasingly, still a bit out of breath.

"You started it. I just added to it." He tossed the soiled tissues away and crawled into the bed next to Armin. They both fell into each other's arms, staring at the ceiling.

"I am sorry, you know," Jean said.

"Well, I think I may be able to forgive you. My dick can attest to that."

"Touché." He let out a chuckle. "I can't believe we both mutually agreed you were the one being topped off.

"Oh, just shut up and go to sleep, or it'll be your turn," Armin murmured, snuggling deeper into their embrace.

Jean was both nervous and slightly curious at the idea. "Well…"

"Oh, dear God. You've never had enough."

Jean chuckled warmly, but eventually complied. Soon, they were both sleeping soundly in one another's arms.

* * *

Armin woke up to the sound of shuffling around the room. He cracked open his eyes, and it took him a second for them to adjust before they settled on Jean's half-naked form. He had his boxers back on and was stepping into his jeans. "What are you doing?" he asked. He glanced at the clock. It was barely 6 in the morning.

"I wasn't sure how long you'd want me here," Jean confessed. "Thought I'd do you a solid and pop out of here before you asked me to."

"But I don't want you to go."

Jean paused, pants button not quite clasped. "You don't?

He shook his head. He sat up, sheets bunching around his lower half. He held out his hand to the brunette, and Jean took it, coming back to sit down on the bed with him. "I probably owe you an explanation for Saturday night." Jean pressed his lips together, but said nothing. He waited. Armin sighed. "I… well, there's several reasons. The most obvious being that I was half convinced that I was nothing more than a release for sexual frustration."

"But it wasn't."

"I know that. Now, at least."

Jean pressed his lips together, thinking. "What were the other reasons?" Jean asked.

"The other reasons…" Armin mused. It took him a second to build up the courage to address the topic. "Jean, you know you're my best friend. Of course I didn't want to ruin it, but more than that, it kind of set off all the insecurities I had about being your friend in the first place."

"Wait, you're insecure about being my _friend_?" Jean inquired, yanking his hands away. Armin didn't like the look of hurt on his face. "Am I that horrible a friend to you? Do I embarrass you?"

"No! No, no, no. Never." Armin took his hands again, and Jean tentatively let him. "Never." He stroked Jean's palm with his thumb.

"Then what?" Jean asked softly.

"I… I've always been afraid I would never compare to Marco. I'm so sorry for bringing him up. I know it's a really hard thing for you to talk about. I just know how great you two were together. I fought really hard to live up to his standards, hoping you'd someday see me in the same light that he did. I've always wanted to be your friend, because I knew who you really could be underneath the rough exterior. So when you kissed me—when we… you know, for the first time—I was scared. Scared that I was a fling and not someone you truly and honestly cared about, like you did about Marco."

Marco's name did leave a bit of a sting still, Jean readily admitted, but he waited patiently until Armin was finished. He pondered over his words as he said them, dealing with this new revelation. He took a moment to figure out what to say. "Armin, you and Marco… I can't compare the two of you. You each hold a place in my heart for completely different reasons. Marco was there to help me hide, something I needed at the time. You came along, though, and did for me exactly what I needed then: someone to break me out. I can't ever thank you enough for that. Armin, you… you completely changed my life for the better. You're the best person I've ever met, and the best person I could ever ask for."

Armin's bottom lip began to tremble, and he ducked his head to hide his face as his body threatened him with tears. "God. Jean, you know I love you," he whispered.

The quiet confession left Jean trembling. He took Armin's face in his hands and kissed him fully. He kissed him on the cheeks, on the nose, on his forehead, underneath his jaw. He kissed him openmouthed, tongues briefly dancing together, and he kissed him softly as if they had all the time in the world. "I love you," he said in between those kisses. "I've loved you for so long, Armin." Kiss. "I've loved every part of you." Kiss. "Every fiber." Kiss. "God, I love you." Kiss. "I love you so much."

Eventually Armin began to laugh at the overflow of affection, and he had to push Jean off him in order to get him to stop. He was still chuckling even as Jean lay defeated on the opposite side of the bed. "You're an absolute idiot, you know that?" he told him.

"You love me for it anyway," Jean sighed.

"Yeah, yeah. Now get your clothes off and come back in here with me."

Jean grinned and stood back up, wrenching the jeans off his long legs. "So you really _don't_ want me gone?"

"Well, there's still a lot of Dr. Pepper left over. Someone needs to drink that."

Jean threw off his boxers and leapt into the bed, wrestling Armin beneath the covers, their laughter echoing around the room.

* * *

 **You never know how hard balancing the pronoun to name ratio is until you write a fanfic about same-sex couples. I don't claim to have done it perfectly.**

 **So I totally know that, while this was smutty, there was a bunch of fluff in there as well. Usually I lean more towards lemony stuff when I read, but for this fic, I wanted there to be a real connection between the two. I can't imagine their relationship without it. In the actual story, Shingeki no Kyojin, there's a deep connection between Jean and Armin built out of deep respect for each other, and also out of comradeship. I hope that translated here with their relationship.**

 **Sex is far from perfect the first time, so appreciate their struggle in this fic. They still had a magical time, and there's always room for more sexy times in more fics ;) Speaking of which, I also know that a lot of you, like me, are real perverts. SO. If you would like me to write a little extra something for this fic that's more citrusy, leave a review! I'd be happy to do it. I'll probably do it anyway, but the reviews certainly won't hurt! Favorite, follow, review, everything. It helps me a lot**

 **Sometimes love is just love, and that's all there is to it.**


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